


A Skele-Bug Named Tibia

by ElkasCorner



Series: What Hides in Our Shadows [1]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Anyone remeber Hungry Knight?, Is it an oc if your naming a character previously unamed?, Kinda, Memory Loss, Muteness, Not Beta Read, Not that important to read, The skele-bug is the bug from that lmao, This is a prequel to a fic I wanna write, Worldbuilding, also, but it does give some lore, i like this world man, me making up lore for a bug game lmao, or giving a personality to?, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28867248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElkasCorner/pseuds/ElkasCorner
Summary: She doesn't remember why she's here. She doesn't even remember her own name. All she knows is she must stay. (But she won't turn down the offer to leave.)
Relationships: OC & The Knight (Hollow Knight), OC/OC (implied)
Series: What Hides in Our Shadows [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2116965
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13





	A Skele-Bug Named Tibia

**Author's Note:**

> BUG BUG BUG BUG-  
> CW Memory Loss
> 
> Hello and welcome to this fic. It's more of background/worldbuilding (sorta) for another fic I'm writing. I've decided I like Hollow Knight and the lore, and I wanna expand on it while also making it less hurt and more comfort. Eventually this will lead into a time travel fix it so be warned, I shall be pulling lore out of my own ass. Obviously I'll follow the original lore as closely as possible, but, ya know.
> 
> Also didn't edit or beta read this so point out any grammar or spelling mistakes, I'm sure there's plenty!
> 
> Anyway onto story!

For how long has she rested here, in this place separate from all else, floating in a sea of gray? Her only companions, the strange beaked creatures, the ones with funny looking mustaches, and, of course, The Three Martyrs. What they were martyrs for, she had long since forgotten. She only knew they watched over her, kept her here, in the unchanging world.

It is a lonely existence, and she can feel her memories slipping, unable to grasp the faint ghosts that remain, doomed to watch, helplessly, as everything she knew fades from her consciousness until this island replaces it all.

There is someone she is forgetting.

There is something she is guarding.

Is she, herself, a martyr?

She can see pillars of darkness break through the gray. Soft wind brushes against her form, which has long since dwindled. (What did she used to look like? All that is left are bones. Bones which, she knows, she thinks, she believes, should not exist.)

She watches the seas. She watched the few that populate her world. Her stagnant, timeless world who slowly seeps into her memory. There are gaps filled with nothing but darkness. Pressing darkness. She likes to leave those gaps alone, and hopes they do not spread.

Sometimes she sings to herself, a tune who’s lyrics she cannot remember, but know that those, too, have faded, and once meant something important. She likes to make her own songs, as well, singing to the creatures that walk. But they do not listen. She doubts they can even listen. They have no voice to speak with, only groaning on the rare occasion to remind her of their existence.

The only company that could speak is The Three Martyrs, but they refuse to speak with her, of course. She wonders if they can even see her, they act as though they cannot. That thought terrifies her. 

It is a lonely existence, yes, but feels important. If only she could  _ just remember it already _ . Even the faintest wisp would be loved and appreciated. Anything at all. And yet the gaps in her memory spread like a cancer, consuming more and more.

She’s terrified.

She’ll die here. 

Even if her body doesn’t, her mind will. All her memories, all her experiences, everything, will die, and her along with it. (She’s already forgotten her own name. Her own  _ name.  _ Her own gods’ forsaken name.)

She rests, dreams of nothing but darkness.

She wishes, that someone will come and free her.

She knows, deep down, that her freedom would spell the end. 

(The end of what? That she does not know. Does not know why she’s here, only that she must remain.)

And then, her wordless wishes are answered.

A strange bug, who can only last in this place for 10 seconds. They do not speak, only approaching her body, looking at it, then the masks carved above her. They leave, heading for the first Martyr. 

They must eat to remain. Bringing down the voiceless inhabitants with a single slash, dashing away from their attacks. 

The stranger feels familiar. 

The stranger is a danger.

The stranger is hope.

The stranger has brought down a Martyr. They consume. They bring down another. They consume. Their hunting stops momentarily, sidetracked by the voiceless inhabitants. They strike, and then they consume. That hunger seems familiar. 

They strike down the last Martyr. And then they consume. And then the seals break. And then she is free.

\--

She opens her eyes to the stranger, encased in a darkened tomb. The stranger helps her stand. “Thank you,” she says, voice hoarse from years, centuries, eons of unuse. The stranger says nothing, gazing at her. Their hands are cold. She cannot see their eyes. “For saving me.” The stranger tilts their head, then starts to step away. “Let me repay you,” she says in a rush, shocked at the sound of desperation in her own voice. (Something is wrong. She should have stayed.)

The stranger tilts their head, further this time. “Let me come with you. What is your name?”

They do not respond. Can they respond? They seem as though they have no idea what she is saying. “Ah, you have no name?” A hesitation. Then a nod. “Would you like to have one?” A quick no. “Can you talk?” Again, another yes, without hesitation. “I shall teach you then, if not through voice, then through hands. My name is…” Her forgotten name. “Tibia,” is what comes to mind. “Tibia.”

And together, The Knight and Tibia head off into the world, leaving behind broken bits of her shell, consumed by Void.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone could tell me how to import pictures, I'd love that! Or embed links. For future reference.


End file.
